


Begin and End There

by Petrichora_Vellichor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cas's Rainbow Wings, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Declarations Of Love, Episode Fix-It: s15e18 Despair, Episode Fix-It: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On, First Kiss, Gen, Love Confessions Via Prayer, M/M, POV Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, me doing the network's job in this economy? it's more likely than you think., memory sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27857085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petrichora_Vellichor/pseuds/Petrichora_Vellichor
Summary: After the Empty takes him, Castiel wakes up in the last place he expected, with a second chance at happiness when he reunites with Dean and the latter finally gets to speak his truth.
Relationships: Background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Castiel & Jack Kline, Castiel/Dean Winchester, minor Castiel & Sam Winchester, minor Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 41
Kudos: 294





	1. Questions

**THEN**

_Dean: “Just want to let you know you are saving our asses here. You’re saving the whole world’s ass.”_

_Amara: “I haven’t saved anything yet.”_

_Dean: “But when the time comes, we can count on you, right?”_

_Amara: “Like I told you when we first met: ‘You and I will always help each other.’”_

-15x17, “Unity”

********************

**NOW**

Castiel opened his eyes, blinking against the white light that blurred his vision. Strange, he didn’t remember the Empty being this bright…

“Cas?”

That voice...He knew that voice. _Jack._ Had the Empty reneged on Its deal and taken them both? He felt a stab of panic at the thought and reached out in blind desperation. “Jack? Jack! Where are you?”

A hand caught his wrist and squeezed gently, and as quickly as the panic had come on, it was gone, banished by a soft pulse of familiar grace. “It’s okay,” he heard Jack say, “it’s okay, I’m here. We’re safe.”

Castiel sighed in relief. _Thank goodness._ He turned his head toward Jack’s voice and blinked once, twice, three times until his vision cleared and he saw, much to his surprise, that he was lying on the couch in Heaven’s throne room. Next to his head, sitting cross-legged on the floor, was Jack, looking relieved as their gazes met. He stood, finally letting go of Castiel’s hand. 

Castiel got up off the couch and immediately pulled Jack into a hug that the latter returned in earnest. “What happened?” Castiel asked as they parted. “How did I get here?”

Jack’s lips quirked in a conspiratorial smile. “I made a deal with the Empty.” Then, eyes widening at Castiel’s look of alarm, he added hastily, “But not like the one you made! I told the Empty that Chuck was gone and that if It gave you back, I’d leave It alone forever. No more interfering, no more bringing anyone else back, just peace and quiet, like It wanted. And It said yes.”

Castiel felt his brow furrow. “Chuck is...dead?” How was that possible? And what had been the cost? Suddenly, every fear crashed down on him at once. He surged forward and seized Jack by the shoulders, frantic. “Dean. Sam. Where are they? Are they hurt? Are they _here?_ Is that why we’re—”

“No.” Jack’s hands came up to wrap around Castiel’s forearms in a reassuring squeeze. "Sam and Dean, they’re both fine. Stevie, Eileen, and the other hunters too. I brought them back. I brought everyone back.”

“‘Everyone?’” Castiel echoed. He frowned. “Jack, what _happened?_ ”

Jack’s smile faded, and his grip on Castiel’s arms tightened, as though afraid Castiel would be torn away from him at any moment. “Before, when the Empty...when It took you, Chuck took everyone else away, too, the entire world. The only ones left were me and Sam and Dean, and then we found Michael, and then my...Lucifer, he came back, and he pretended to be you so Dean would let him into the Bunker, and…” Jack chewed his lip, considering, then said, “Here, it’s better if I just show you.”

He raised his hands to Castiel’s temples and pressed lightly.

_Castiel saw the inside of the Bunker. He saw Lucifer killing a reaper to make a new Death, then eliminating her permanently once she’d opened Chuck’s book. He saw the fight that had followed, saw Michael kill Lucifer and Jack absorb the latter’s power, saw Jack sit down with Sam and Dean and Michael in the war room to formulate a plan…_

As though from far away, Jack’s voice filtered into his thoughts: “And then we all went after Chuck...”

_The scene changed. Instead of the Bunker, Castiel saw a large clearing next to a lake. He saw Sam and Dean, armed with angel blades, yell for Chuck to come and face them. He saw Chuck appear, arrogant, condescending, his expression twisting into one of fury when Michael stepped out of the trees to stand next to the brothers, his archangel blade glinting in the sun. Castiel saw Chuck order Michael to kill Sam and Dean, saw Michael flat out refuse. He saw Sam and Dean and Michael rush Chuck together, all of them quickly becoming enmeshed in a brutal hand-to-hand combat that ended abruptly when Chuck sent out a shockwave that brought the others to their knees. He saw Chuck raise his fingers, poised to snap, ready to end it for everyone except himself, when—_

_“Amara!” Dean yelled. “Now!”_

_And then Castiel saw Chuck seize, as though restrained by an invisible force. He saw Jack step into the clearing and walk purposefully up to his grandfather, a look of fire in his eyes. He saw Jack place his hands on Chuck’s temples, saw the surge of energy that flowed into Jack as Amara materialized at Jack’s side, unharmed. He saw Chuck fall to the ground with a cry, powerless. Saw him beg first Amara, then Michael, to help him, saw both refuse._

_He saw Chuck turn to Sam and Dean, a relishing sort of spite on his face as he asked if this was the part where they killed him, because how perfect, how fitting that would be! And he saw Dean say that no, he wasn’t a killer. Saw Sam throw Chuck’s book to the ground in front of him and tell him to write his own story, because he was done writing theirs. Saw the brothers turn and walk away with Jack and Amara and Michael, the five of them driving off in the Impala as Chuck stumbled after them, begging, pathetic, defeated, as he was left alone in the dust…_

The scene faded, and Castiel was back in Heaven’s throne room, gazing at Jack in wonder as the former lowered his hands. “Jack, you...You’re the new God.”

Jack gave him a sheepish shrug. “I’m still me,” he said, “just...more. I can do everything I used to, and then some. Chuck’s power, it’s mine now, and I’m going to use it to fix things.” He gestured around at the throne room. “Like Heaven. The way Chuck made it, with everyone locked in their own memories...He put them behind walls so he could control them. I’m going to tear down the walls and remake Heaven the way it should have been from the start, so that people can decide where to go and what to do and who to do it with. No more control, no more constraints, just...choice. Free will.” Jack smiled. “Just like you and Sam and Dean taught me. It’s what we fought for.”

Castiel felt himself smile in return. “Yes, it is.” Then, a doubt: “What about Amara?”

Jack beamed. “Oh, she’s going to help! We’re going to do it together, and once we’re done, she’s going to stay and look after things up here while I go back to Earth and help people down there. That way, I can stay with you and Sam and Dean. Speaking of which,” Jack gave him a nod, “you should go. Dean is waiting.”

Castiel felt himself suddenly still. “He’s...waiting?”

Jack nodded. “For you. I told him I’d try to get you out of the Empty and that if I could, I’d send you back to him.”

Castiel swallowed; he felt as though his entire being was holding its breath. “I...see.”

“He said he had something he needed to tell you.”

“Did he...say what it was?”

“No, just that it was important.”

“Ah.” Castiel looked away, mind racing. What if he’d made Dean uncomfortable by confessing his love? What if Dean just wanted to see him to tell him that he didn’t feel the same way? Would he still let Castiel stay, as a friend? Castiel wasn’t anywhere near as powerful as he used to be. Chuck had said it himself, and so had countless others before him: Castiel was defective, broken, had come off the line with a crack in his chassis. He hadn’t even been able to help in the final fight, because he’d been dead. What was left of his grace began to prickle anxiously. Now that Heaven was finally safe, what use did the Winchesters even have for him anymore? 

Or worse, what if Dean blamed himself for Castiel’s death? Dean had been through so much, had overcome so many burdens that should never have been his to bear. If there was any part of him that harbored guilt over what had happened, then Castiel would fix that. Dean deserved to be happy, and Castiel would make sure that he was. Even if Dean’s happiness didn't involve him.

“Cas?”

Castiel looked up and, seeing Jack’s concerned expression, forced a smile. He nodded. “Yes. I heard you. Thank you, Jack; I’ll go see him.”

Jack beamed. “Good. Oh! But before you do, here.” He placed a hand over Castiel’s heart. “I have something for you.”

A current of grace flowed from Jack’s palm into Castiel’s chest. He felt a prickling sensation on his back and glanced over his shoulder, gasping at the set of magnificent black wings that materialized even as he watched. They were exactly as he remembered, healthy and strong, shimmering like an oil slick in the sun and making rainbows of refracted light. 

“There,” said Jack, stepping back with a grin. “I thought you might want them back.”

Hesitantly, Castiel reached out to run a finger over the velvety feathers, shivering at the familiar-yet-long-forgotten sensation. His wings. He’d thought he’d lost them forever, had even mourned them, and yet here they were, returned to him at last. “I...” he managed, at which point Jack pulled him into a hug that Castiel returned fiercely. “Thank you, Jack.”

“No,” said Jack, his voice somewhat muffled by Castiel’s shoulder, “thank _you._ I chose you as my father before I was even born because you risked everything to make sure that I would be. From the very beginning, you knew what I was, knew _who_ I was, and even then, you never stopped believing in me, never stopped fighting for me, not even when I lost my soul. You saw the good in me, and you taught me to see the good in others. I am who I am because of you, Cas; we _won_ because of you. You’re my family, and I love you. And I want you to be happy.”

Castiel swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t know what to say, was too overwhelmed to even begin to respond, so instead, he just hugged tighter, wrapping his wings protectively around Jack and pressing a kiss to the top of Jack's head, hoping that he understood.

When they finally separated, Jack smiled at Cas and raised his hand in a gesture of farewell. “Go,” he said. “Talk to Dean, and tell him and Sam that I’ll be home soon.”

Castiel nodded. “I’ll see to it that we have Krunch Cookie Crunch cereal on hand for your return.” Then, with a wave and a flutter of wings, he was gone.


	2. Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Love him, and let him love you. Do you think anything else under heaven really matters?” —James Baldwin, _Giovanni’s Room_

“Dean.” Sam’s voice was imploring, gentle, just like it had been the first two times he’d tried. “Come on, sit down.” 

Dean ignored him and continued pacing, the cramped stillness of the motel room a vicious sounding board for his thoughts. Among them all, he clung to one thought in particular, the only one keeping him sane: _Jack’s gonna get him back. He said he would. He has to..._

He could feel Sam’s worried gaze on him from where his brother sat in a chair by the door. It had been Sam who had insisted they grab the motel room after Jack had gone, having intuited, rightly, that Dean was a mess even if he was trying to hide it and that he needed somewhere private where he didn’t have to. The only problem was that, for Dean, privacy in the sense of _space to break down_ meant an audience of zero, not one, and Dean didn’t know how much longer he could hold himself together. 

“Damn it, Sam,” he growled a minute later, “don’t you and Eileen have stuff to talk about? You don’t gotta hang around like a damn babysitter.”

If Sam was annoyed by Dean’s tone, he didn’t show it; instead, he just leaned forward, folding his hands in his lap. “We do, but it can wait,” he said calmly. "Besides, you heard her: someone had to go back to the silo and make sure all the Apocalypse-world hunters made it back okay. She said she’d text me when she got there.”

Dean huffed out a sigh. “Yeah, well...Still. You could’ve gone with her, is all I’m sayin’.”

“No. Not until I know you’re okay.”

“I’m _fine_.”

“Dean, enough.” Sam was frowning now, and there was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “You think I don’t know what Cas means to you?” He scoffed and shook his head. “Because if so, I’m sorry, but you’re not as hard to read as you think you are, not for me.”

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, stunned, and as he wilted under Sam’s knowing gaze, the full force of his exhaustion hit him all at once and damn near brought him to his knees. “I can’t lose him,” he heard himself admit in a hoarse whisper. He swallowed and shook his head. “Not again.”

Sam’s expression softened. “I know. We’ll get him back; if Jack can’t save him, we’ll find another way. We always do.”

Dean sighed, then nodded. Sam was right; of course he was. They’d get Cas back even if Dean had to storm into the Empty and grab him himself, grip Cas’s formerly feathered ass and raise _him_ from perdition for a change. _Cas, you idiot, what the hell’s the matter with you?_ he imagined himself demanding. _You don’t think_ you _deserve to be saved?_

Suddenly, there was a shuffling sound outside, and before Sam could even begin to stand, Dean had bolted across the room and yanked open the door, determined to hear whatever news Jack was bringing them so that he could actually _do_ something instead of just waiting, only...only it wasn’t Jack standing on the other side of the threshold.

Cas gazed back at him as though in a daze, hand raised in an aborted knock; after a beat, he lowered it and cleared his throat. “I—Hello, Dean.” He nodded past Dean toward the interior of the room. “May I come in?”

Dean nodded wordlessly, feet suddenly like lead as he stepped aside so Cas could brush past him. He closed the door and sank down on the edge of the nearest bed as Sam let out an exclamation of relief and stood to pull Cas into a hug.

“It’s good to have you back, man,” Sam said warmly, clapping Cas on the back. As they drew apart, he added, “How’s Jack? Did you have a chance to talk with him?”

Cas nodded, smiling. “I did. He told me everything that’s happened since…” Cas’s smile faltered, and his eyes darted over to land on Dean, who suddenly felt as though his face were on fire. Before Dean could say anything, though, Cas looked away, as though _he_ were the one who’d been burned. “He told me everything,” he said instead. “He also said that he’ll be home as soon as he’s able, once he and Amara have finished remaking Heaven.”

Sam raised a brow, glancing curiously from Cas to Dean and back again; clearly, he’d clearly picked up on the weirdness between them. For a moment, Dean thought he was going to call them out on it and started casting about for something innocuous to say; however, Sam just smiled and nodded. “That’s great, Cas. Thanks for the update. And for saving Dean. If you hadn’t gone with him…” Sam swallowed, a more sober expression settling on his face. He reached out and clasped Cas’s shoulder. “Just...thank you. For everything.”

The genuineness of Sam’s words seemed to catch Cas off guard; then, after a moment, his lips quirked in a timid sort of smile, and he nodded. “Of course.”

Sam beamed at him, then took a step back and gestured toward the door. “Okay, I’m gonna go grab lunch while I wait to hear from Eileen, so I’ll see you guys later.” Then, with a poorly concealed smirk, he looked over at Dean and added, “Text me if I should steer clear of the Bunker for a few days.”

Dean glared daggers at him. _Sammy, I swear to our kid who is now God..._ “How ’bout you just get a move on before I kick your ass? Bitch.” 

But Sam just chuckled. “Good luck, jerk,” he replied, fondly; then, with a wave, he turned and headed for the door. 

A moment later, he was gone, and the room was unbearably silent. Dean glanced up at Cas to find the latter regarding him almost shyly, as though any words uttered between them would bring the walls crashing down. For his part, Dean would have almost welcomed it. A quick death sounded pretty good right about now; at the very least, it’d absolve him from having to speak.

In the end, it was Cas who cleared his throat and broke the silence. “Jack said you wanted to see me?” 

“Uh.” Dean sucked in a shaky breath, then nodded. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did.” Then, feeling his face grow warm at Cas’s continued stare, he coughed and looked away. “Cas, have a seat. We, uh, we need to talk.”

He’d expected Cas to sit opposite him, in the chair Sam had vacated; but before he realized what was going on, Cas had crossed over to sit next to him on the edge of the bed, less than a foot of mattress between their thighs. The heat on Dean’s face licked down his neck and back, almost overwhelming him, and if his legs hadn’t suddenly turned to jelly, he probably would have bolted. 

Instead, he just blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “So...Jack was able to get you back, huh?” He immediately wanted to kick himself, because of _course_ Jack had been able to get Cas back, that much was obvious. _Way to go, dumbass..._

Thankfully, Cas just nodded. “He promised the Empty a future of noninterference within Its realm in exchange for my life, and It accepted.”

“Huh.” Dean chewed his tongue thoughtfully. “Sounds like one of us actually made a good deal for a change.” 

Cas gave him a tentative smile. “I hope so.” A pause; then: “Dean, I need you to know that I don’t regret my choice, because that’s what it was: _my_ choice; and there’s nothing you could have said or done that would have made me choose differently.” Cas was speaking quickly, urgently, looking at Dean as though afraid Dean would interrupt. “And I also need you to know that I meant every word that I said about how I see you. Now that Chuck is gone, you can finally be happy, and...if it’s possible, I would like to be part of that happiness.” He looked up at Dean sadly, adding, “but if that’s not what _you_ want, if you want me to leave, I promise I understand.”

Dean, who up to this point had only been able to listen in stunned silence, finally managed to unstick his voice. “If that’s not what I...What are you...You think I don’t _want_ you to be a part of it?”

“I...” Cas looked down at his hands. “I’m aware that my connection to Heaven is no longer of particular value, and more than that, I don’t wish the knowledge of what you mean to me to make you uncomfortable.” He smiled sadly. “You don’t owe me anything, Dean; I recognize that. I—”

“Stop,” Dean interrupted, because every word out of Cas’s mouth was landing like a knife in his heart. He reached out and gripped Cas’s shoulder tightly, causing the latter to look up in startled surprise. “Damn it, Cas, stop talking like I’d only want you in my life if you were a goddamn tool I could use. You’re not a hammer, remember? Not mine or anyone else’s.”

Cas’s stunned expression melted into one of soft wonder. He nodded slowly, gazing back at Dean with eyes so earnest and hopeful that Dean had to look away lest he fall right into them. With a nervous swallow, Dean licked his lips and dropped his hand from Cas’s shoulder, determined to keep going now that he’d gotten started. “And..and about me not owing you anything...Cas, I owe you _everything_.” He made himself meet Cas’s gaze again, because damn it, this was apparently something Cas had doubts on, and Dean needed him to understand. “You pulled me out of Hell, and you helped me and Sam stop the Apocalypse and saved both our asses more times than I can count, and Jack’s alive because of you and so is everyone else in the world. And you think what, that I’m just gonna forget about all that?” he demanded, just barely managing to keep his voice from breaking. He shook his head. “Fuck that, Cas; you’re not disposable.”

Cas, whose expression had become increasingly anguished the longer Dean spoke, now looked dangerously close to tears. “Then what am I, Dean? I...please, I need to know, I need you to _tell_ me, because I don’t...I can’t...”

 _Everything_ , Dean thought fiercely; _you’re everything._ Fuck, he just needed to find some way to actually _say_ it…

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him: maybe, if saying it out loud was too much...He closed his eyes and started praying. _Cas?_

He felt a slight shift of the mattress as Cas stiffened in attention. “Dean?” he asked, hesitantly.

 _Yeah. Yeah, I can hear you._ Dean kept his eyes closed, responding in his head. _Question is, can you hear_ me?

A beat of silence; then: “Yes. I can hear you.”

Dean let out a steady breath. _Okay. Okay, good. ’Cause there’s something I need you know, but..._ He tried to finish the thought; damn it, he _tried_ , but even like this, he just couldn’t fucking seem to—

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder; his eyes fluttered open to see Cas leaning forward into his space, looking at him with soft understanding. “There’s something you need me to know,” Cas repeated slowly, “but you’re not sure how to say it.”

Dean blinked in surprise. “You...you got that part, too?”

Cas nodded. “The way it works...It’s difficult to explain in human terms. Prayers are something I _hear_ and _see_ and _feel_ , all at once, and they don’t have to be words. They can be feelings or images or—”

“Memories?” Dean sat up straight, an idea forming. “Does it work with memories?”

Cas’s brow furrowed in apparent confusion, but eventually, he nodded. “Yes. If you show them to me.”

Dean didn’t waste another moment—he couldn’t, or he might lose his nerve. He closed his eyes and resumed his prayer. _Okay, Cas, listen up..._

 _He was pulling Cas’s trench coat out of the reservoir after the Leviathans had walked Cas into it, and the feeling in his gut...Dean knew it was grief. He’d lost friends before; hell, he’d lost_ Sam _before, but this...this felt different..._

_But the Leviathans were on the loose, and the wall blocking out Sam’s Hell trauma had crumbled, and Dean didn’t have time to let himself stop and think. He folded the trench coat and stowed it in Baby’s trunk._

_Months later, he was talking to Cas in an abandoned hangar the night before they stormed Sucrocorp and went after Dick Roman. Cas was saying he should stay behind, told Dean he wasn’t good luck and would just get in the way, but Dean wasn't having it. He’d done life without Cas, and it had sucked. Now, he knew he’d rather have him, cursed or not, friend or...He’d rather have him._

_He only told Cas the first part, though._

_Then, after, when he was tearing through Purgatory for over a year, Dean realized it wasn’t that he’d rather have Cas—it was that he couldn’t imagine_ not _having him. He was going to find Cas no matter the cost, wasn’t leaving Purgatory without him. Cas was...he wasn’t something Dean couldn’t stand to lose._

_And then Dean lost him anyway._

_Dean was back topside, and Cas was still in Purgatory because Dean had failed to save him. The knowledge haunted Dean; he saw Cas everywhere, was sure he was hallucinating...until it turned out he wasn’t. And then he learned that Cas had made the conscious choice to stay behind, because apparently, Dean was something_ he _could stand to lose, and that knowledge hurt in a way Dean didn’t have words for._

_So they didn’t talk about it._

_Then Dean was kneeling, bloodied, in Lucifer’s crypt, Cas standing over him with his angel blade raised. And Dean didn’t know what was going on, but he knew, he_ knew _, that this wasn’t his Cas._ His Cas. _The words were loud in his mind, and he was both awed and terrified of how right they felt. He_ needed _Cas, and he told him so...and Cas’s angel blade fell to the floor._

_They didn’t talk about that much, either._

_Years went by, and now_ Dean _was the one standing over a bloodied, crumpled Cas, the Mark of Cain burning on his arm and Cas’s stolen blade in hand. He needed to hurt Cas, or for Cas to hurt_ him _, to fight back and end the goddamn constant screaming in Dean’s head that was all_ blood _and_ rage _and_ hate _and—Cas’s hand came up to gently clasp Dean’s wrist. “No, Dean...please.” And for a second, just a second, the hate in Dean’s mind was quiet, and in its place, strong, surging, and undeniable, was—_

_Dean stabbed the book next to Cas’s head and walked away._

_Next, he was standing in a barn with his mom and Sam and Crowley, watching in terrified helplessness as Cas writhed in agony on an old couch. Ramiel could come for them at any moment, and yet all Dean could think about was the intensity in Cas’s eyes as Cas told him, told all of them, that he loved them, and_ fuck _, Dean loved him, too, but not the familial sort of love that Cas seemed to be getting at, no. Dean loved him in a raw, real sense that he felt in his bones and that scared him half out of his mind, and he wanted to say it; but then Cas was convulsing, and it was too late…_

_Then Crowley snapped Ramiel’s spear, and Cas was saved, and Dean told himself that enough was enough, he needed to get his shit together and find some way to tell Cas what he felt before—_

_He was kneeling, silent, on the shore of a lake. The sky was starless overhead, and Cas was dead on the ground in front of him, wings scorched against the sand. And Dean was aching and empty, hollowed out by grief and regret, because he’d waited too long, and now it was too late…_

_And then_ he _was dead, or something like it. He was in Death’s library and Billie was showing him the shelf of books with his name on the cover, detailing all the possible ways he could die, and Dean should have felt_ fear _, should have felt_ fight _, but instead, all he felt was_ finally _. He hadn’t been able to save the people he loved, hadn’t been able to save Cas, so what was the point of going back? Sam would be better off without him, would get a shot at the normal life he’d always wanted. Billie could toss Dean in the Empty; he didn’t care anymore. Hell, he_ wanted _it, anything to end all his goddamn regret—_

_But Billie sent him back anyway, and later that night, Dean’s phone rang._

_Cas was back. He was alive and he was back, and_ fuck _, he was so much more than Dean deserved. And Dean told himself that he was okay with that, with not having Cas in the way that he wanted, as long as he had him in some way, shape, or form. But then Jack killed Mary, and Dean...he was so angry and hurt that he lashed out at Cas, said horrible things he didn’t mean but didn’t know how to take back once they were out, and he couldn’t even look at Cas without wanting to scream and break and beg for forgiveness. He watched as Cas left him after they fought, left him like everyone else did, and Dean let him, because he knew now that needing someone wasn’t the same as deserving them._

_Then they were back in Purgatory after a botched attempt at securing a Leviathan Blossom. They’d been ambushed, and Dean had been knocked out, had woken up alone with Cas nowhere in sight and limited time to make it back. And Dean knew he still didn’t deserve Cas, but he prayed to him anyway. He told Cas about the hurt and the anger and the helplessness he felt when it took hold of him, and he was sorry, God, he was so fucking sorry…_

_When he found Cas at the last moment at the base of a tree, he wanted...he_ needed _to tell Cas what he hadn’t had the nerve to say in his prayer, because it was so much more than_ of course I forgive you _; it was_ please forgive _me_ , I know I don’t fucking deserve you but I want you, I need you, I _love_ you…

_But they had to go, because as always, there was never enough fucking time._

_And then they were trapped in the Bunker’s interrogation room as Billie pounded on the door. Cas was going to die, and it was Dean’s fault,_ again _it was his fault, because he’d screwed up, because he’d been stupid and angry and that was all he knew how to be—_

 _But then Cas was talking with tears in his eyes, and each word was its own revelation, because Cas was looking at him the way Dean had never in a million years thought to be worthy of. And Dean forgot how to breathe, because suddenly, Cas was saying it, he_ said _it: “I love you…”_

_And then the Empty took him, and Billie, and Dean was left alone on the floor. He was dimly aware of the way Sam’s name flashed on his phone, but he couldn’t answer, because then he’d have to explain, and…and..._

_Dean cradled his head in his hands and sobbed. He felt like his entire soul had been lit on fire and that every word he’d ever known had been ripped out of him by the roots, all except for the two he murmured, strangled and broken, into the silence: “Me too...”_

Dean gasped and ended the prayer. He opened his eyes and felt tears roll down his cheeks; he hadn’t noticed them forming while he’d been praying, and he was about to reach up to dash them away when he saw that Cas’s face was wet with tears of his own; he looked more wrecked than Dean had ever seen him, and the hand he’d kept on Dean’s shoulder throughout the prayer had started to tremble. “Dean, I—”

“Look,” Dean said shakily, because if he didn’t say this now, he didn’t know if he ever could. “I...I know you said happiness isn't really in the having and all that, but...well, I think maybe it _is_. For me, anyway. Because Cas, if there’s one thing I’ve learned after all the crap we’ve been through, it’s that my life ain’t happy if it doesn’t have you in it.” He swallowed a lump in his throat and pushed on: “You said you thought you couldn’t have me, but the thing is, you’ve had me for years. And I just...I need you to hear me, I need you to _know_ …” He almost stopped then, almost couldn’t go on, because the look of absolute _love_ in Cas’s eyes was overwhelming, and Dean could no more deny it than he could give up breathing. He raised his hand, placed it firmly on top of the one on his shoulder, and squeezed. “You changed me too, Cas.”

Then Cas was kissing him, and Dean let out a muffled sob of relief as he felt Cas’s hands wrap around his middle and pull them flush against one another. His grip was hot and desperate on Dean’s back, and the way his mouth moved against Dean’s made Dean feel as though he were going to burst into millions of joyous pieces. He tangled his hands in Cas’s hair and kissed him hard, tugging him backward until Cas was straddling him on the mattress, his solid, unyielding weight a blissful, dizzying contrast to the lightness Dean felt in his mind as Cas’s tongue slid surely over his own, ravishing and reverent and real. They were _real_ , and they always had been. 

And Dean would never, ever doubt that again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endless thanks to Fearauko for beta-ing this chapter. Thank you for helping Dean find his voice. 💙


End file.
